


Fire Meet Gasoline

by OpaqueXApathy



Category: Avengers (Comics), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Collars, Dominance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Flashbacks, Group Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Leashes, M/M, Marvel Universe, Memory Loss, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Poly, Slow Build, Submission, Trust Issues, Winter Frost, X-men because continuity, eventual polyamory relationship, sooo many frickin' tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-29 17:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3904018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpaqueXApathy/pseuds/OpaqueXApathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cool hand brushed against the side of his face, above the mask, over skin that felt fevered. It was immediately soothing, like a drink of cool water after being exposed to nothing but arid sun. Loki leaned closer, he could hear it,  and the voice that came next was a commanding, soothing lilt. Quietly confident, he was obeying it nearly without thought. “Kneel for me.” //</p><p>Or that fiction where Loki finds the Winter Soldier first and Thor finds it in his heart to accept another, knowing how much Loki begins to care for him. Thing is, the Soldier has a name. Bucky. And Bucky, years ago, had a pretty intense love affair with a man named Steve Rogers. The Avenger now known as Captain America. Things just get complicated from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So! I like polyamorous pairings. And the idea of these four really intrigued me. Yup. Four. I am crazy. But it's a good type of crazy because I really developed an affinity with this whole plot. It'll be a slow build, not that many chapters, and is mostly heavy on the leash/collar dominance and submission that develops between Loki and the Soldier (the Asset needs a Master). Things progress into a relationship, they find Steve, and with the whole history unveiled... well let's just say that love is a lot more 'expansive' in Asgard. Poor vanilla Steve. It's okay Steve. In my head, there are plenty of universes where it's just you and Bucky (and plenty of fics too).

 

 

Thor walked along the nearly deserted, golden corridors of his home in Asgard, his boots echoing dully off the walls as he headed for the main chambers. Loki had always said that he walked heavily. That the demigod always knew when he returned because he could hear him before he ever stepped foot into the house. Upon the dirt and upon the grass. That he walked like a giant and not an Asgardian.

It made Thor smile, releasing a soft breath that was lovingly relieved. Relieved to be home, relieved to soon be in the arms of his king - the throne of Asgard both theirs. The prophecy fulfilled at last. The very prophecy that father had spoken of. Though Loki had more the responsibilities of queen, they are equals now. The only thing Loki had ever wanted, truly needed. And Thor would never forget it. Forget the struggles, the pain Loki had endured. Mostly, unknowingly, at his own hands.

It had only been a few days since Thor had left for Midgard but any absence was truly felt. Too keenly. It wasn't that he was overprotective exactly... well he was definitely that. He trusted Loki. With all his heart. But their meeting with the Avengers had been tense, announcing Loki essentially as his queen, and when Loki had wished to stay on earth for a time - Thor had been willing. But it hadn't been easy.

Again, overprotective, as usual. Not that Loki could return to what he had been, that was long since over, but that words could harm him - hurt him. Words he did not deserve. He’d atoned for his mistakes, he’d found his redemption, and Thor had found forgiveness in him deep and infinite. And he wouldn’t allow anyone or anything to harm Loki’s truly beautiful soul and spirit. Not so long as it was on that path of redemption.

"Loki?" Thor called with a smile that was affectionately teasing. "It is midday and I have been too long without your touch-" he came up abruptly short as he turned and entered the arched doorway to their living chambers. There was Loki, his betrothed. But he wasn't alone.

Beside him what seemed to be a human - he was taller than they usually came, a short mane of hair so dark a brown that it was nearly black. He was dressed in human clothing, military human clothing that contained armor. A harness around his chest, a mask around his mouth that was far too similar to a muzzle for Thor's liking. And his eyes... blacked around them with warpaint, they were cold. Eyeing him without a single ounce of fear. Or humanity.

Thor knew without question that this disheveled, wildly dangerous, beautiful creature standing beside Loki had killed. Often by the looks of him. It was coldly written in his eyes.

"Loki?" Thor softly questioned.

"I found him." Loki said, not yet averting his eyes from the human - just as softly, and Thor could see in his eyes a well of compassion, understanding, empathy. He knew in that instant that Loki had found a wounded creature that mirrored his own past suffering. And he struggled to be understanding.

This was obviously no common human. What else could Loki have done, finding him muzzled and possibly injured. Thor knew he could not have left him, not in so similar circumstances as he'd once been. And Thor was curious. Concerned but curious.

"This is breaking..." Thor drew in a breath, "so many rules Loki-"

"Don't speak to me as if I don't know them." Loki said, his voice quiet but a bit sharp.

Thor saw many things in that moment. When he'd questioned Loki, the human beside him had ever so subtly tensed and become a bit nervous. But Loki's reply, commanding respect from Thor, had made him relax again. He was looking to Loki for guidance. Direction. Orders. He suddenly struck Thor as a weapon without a wielder.

He didn't strike him as a normal human either. He seemed unquestionably dangerous. Different.

"Is he injured?" Thor asked. He trusted Loki. He trusted in what he had done. They would deal with any consequences later.

"He's half starved. Injured I wouldn't doubt it. Muzzled." the disgust in Loki's voice, anger, was evident in that sharply uttered word all too clearly. And then, telepathically, Loki's voice came to him within his mind. Soft, private, quietly asking for understanding. _I beg you to understand. He needs a master. At least, temporarily. Trust me brother. And whatever you do, however you're about to see me, know me brother. And only that._

Thor forced himself to stay calm, drawing in a breath, and watched on. Bracing himself for what he was about to witness.

Bucky was edgy, nervous, but he was almost too exhausted to be either. It was there under the surface, wearing on him, dragging him into an almost sluggish state of mind akin to atrophy of the brain. He felt pulled in two inexplicable directions. He felt like himself, whoever the hell that was, but then the Soldier made it’s presence clear and suddenly Bucky felt torn. Was he the Winter Soldier? Sometimes it felt like had two halves. And he certainly wasn’t whole.

A cool hand brushed against the side of his face, above the mask, over skin that felt fevered. It was immediately soothing, like a drink of cool water after being exposed to nothing but arid sun. Loki leaned closer, he could hear it, and the voice that came next was a commanding, soothing lilt. Quietly confident, he was obeying it nearly without thought. “Kneel for me.”

The Soldier went. And it was such a blissful feeling. He not only went to his knees but he went all too willingly, relief flooding through him as he was given direction he’d been desperately needing and lacking. The anxiety and fear and panic and desperate sense of being inexplicably lost entirely evaporated. The rest went with the exhaustion, Bucky far too tired as his knees hit the floor to even think twice. There was no thought. Just reaction. And he was grateful. Oh so grateful. Because finally, this God like being, had wiped the Soldier temporarily clean. And eased the grip he’d had over his mind that had been driving him to madness for days.

A hand stroked through his hair, long fingers, cool palms. It was a strong touch tempered by compassion. Bucky’s eyes closed without thought and he subtly swayed, leaning closer to the man beside him, into his legs. Not a man, he didn’t know what else to call him. He didn’t care. Whatever he wanted to be called, he’d call him that. He couldn’t possibly repay him for how he was feeling now.

“That’s it, Soldier.” the voice lulled him, almost hypnotic, not quite masculine even though it sounded male. Did it even have a gender? It didn’t matter. It was a quiet, commanding presence that he could release himself into. And that for now was all that did matter. “I have you now.”

“Has he eaten?” the other, god like being asked. They were larger than him. Bucky subtly wondered if this was something resembling an afterlife. Because the two men in the room had a presence that was other worldly. Different. He currently didn’t care. Not with that hand stroking through his hair, petting him, stroking away all his fears and anxiety. Soothing the Soldier to sleep and leaving Bucky blissfully free of his influence. Letting him blend into his own mind, whatever he was, whatever he’d become. Until he felt inexplicably whole.

“I tried some water but it didn’t stay down. For now we must clean him up. And take this wretched, foul device from his face.”

That sounded nice, Bucky vaguely thought as he dozed at Loki’s feet. It wasn’t the easiest to breathe from. It could be suffocating, confining, but that was the point. His Hydra handlers had deliberately used it for his mental conditioning. That he was less. No more than a dog. A tool. A weapon to be used as they wished. When he was awake. Which hadn’t been often.

Loki moved and that pulled Bucky from his almost sedated state of relaxation. Just a bit. He was too exhausted to come to much awareness. The Soldier did though. Pulling his sluggish mind to quickly take in what was happening and to cooperate as much as it didn’t want too. But Loki wasn’t leaving him, he was just moving to crouch in front of him, resting on his heels, eyeing him with a gaze that was filled with gentle compassion, curiosity, calm. But he definitely wasn’t from the world Bucky had known. What was this gorgeous being?

“Are you an angel?” Bucky slurred the words. The Soldier vaguely knew it was because he didn’t have sustenance, he was wounded, and depleted. Bucky was almost too delirious to realize he should take care of all of those things. There was promise that this being called Loki would. The Soldier had already submitted to this new handler.

Loki grinned, breathing a laugh that seemed surprised, momentarily awestruck and certainly amused. Making him impossibly more beautiful than before. “No.” Affectionately he reached out and caressed the backs of those cool, long fingers over his face. “Not hardly.” and there was a flicker of something in his eyes then, something Bucky couldn’t place, but it was gone within a moment and Loki was cupping his face in a hand. “Lift your head for me, Soldier.”

It felt like his head was being lifted anyway but he made the attempt, wanting to obey. The strength in those hands seemed infinite. Loki turned his head a bit to the side, Bucky letting his gaze fall just past his shoulder as he was inspected, looked over. How was this new handler going to use him? The Soldier wanted to be put to work. He wanted to do the only thing it knew how. Take orders. Kill. Kill well and please it’s handler. Be a good asset. But was he too damaged? Was he worthless now? Would this Loki dismiss him as damaged property? He begged him to see him as salvageable.

His head was turned and he let it, whichever direction was asked. It was coaxed down with searching hands, Loki apparently looking for something. Bucky let him do what he wanted, starved for contact and enjoying the touch. And then it found the release at the back of his neck for the mask, deftly undoing the straps and letting them come away. With both hands then he pulled it free, Bucky taking in a grateful breath of cool air, almost a gasp. And for a moment he just breathed, shallow, blissful lung fulls of pure, cool oxygen.

“There.” Loki said, “That’s much better isn’t it?”

A hand cupped his chin, coaxed his head up. “Look, Soldier.”

Bucky’s eyes found the mask that Loki was holding, in one hand now, for Bucky to see. “This will never confine you again. Do you hear me? You will never be muzzled, you will never be silenced again. And I will let no one do so from this moment forth. I will let no hands touch you. I will let no hands harm you. And though I will gladly and willingly provide you a master, you are free from those who twisted you. Harmed you. And tormented you. You are no longer theirs. Do you understand?”

Emotions welled up in Bucky so great he could scarcely contain the tears that came unbidden to his eyes and he turned them to meet Loki’s. How could he express how grateful he was, how much those words had meant? The emotions running through him were like a maelstrom. He didn’t belong to Hydra anymore. He wasn’t theirs to be used. And this being had done it. If he was dead so be it. He’d happily serve at this man’s feet well into the afterlife so long as he drew breath.

“Я понимаю.” he said, finding words at last, rough but to his ears not broken.

Loki didn’t appear to understand him so he struggled to search through his brain for something else. “I understand.” he tried again.

“Then look.” Loki said, moving the mask just a bit nearer. “And witness your liberation.”

It was magic. It had to be. Something inhuman, unreal, alien. Within a second, a burst of green fire, the mask was consumed in a blaze of black and green heat. It burned so hotly that Bucky could feel the heat but he didn’t turn from it. Instead he watched as the black mask burned and warped and melted. With a cold sense of satisfaction he watched as it was destroyed. It seemed like Loki could control the burn and let him have a long look, for which he was pleased, grateful. Because he savored it. And when it was gone, it was no more than ash. And that too was whisked away - as if it had never been, from Loki’s hands.

“Stand, Soldier.” Loki murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “And let’s lead you into that sweet liberation.”

 

TBC //


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few notes! I found this wonderful leash and collar set and it's what I'm envisioning Loki's would look like, that he gives to Bucky. Green and black of course and Norse symbols, including his own, instead of what's on this one. But it is just gorgeous. Definitely my mental image. Feel free to steal it. [https://img0.etsystatic.com/007/0/6079187/il_570xN.379307904_bl7p.jpg]

Thor watched on with diligent eyes as whom Loki referred too as ‘the Soldier’ unsteadily found his feet. Loki didn’t help, he didn’t even offer a hand, but he was there. His presence was steadfast and that was all the man seemed to want. Direction. And he did everything with a determined amount of diligence too.

 _He needs to do everything that he can, everything that I ask, alone. He wishes for it that way._ Loki assured him and Thor agreed with the reasoning. Though he was starting to have serious suspicions about the identity of the human they now had in their possession...

 _Loki?_ Thor asked, following them at a careful distance, of which seemed to be at least ten or so feet in front and not behind as they headed to their bed chambers. Where he assumed that Loki was intending to bathe and possibly feed the Soldier. He was thin. Thor could see it now. It looked as though his uniform might have fit far better at an earlier date. Not it barely clung to him, seemed far too big in other places.

 _Yes brother?_ Loki asked, though his eyes mostly remained on the Soldier. He was leading him, calmly watching on but keeping him well within his sights. The Soldier for the most part kept his feet on Loki’s boots. But Thor could see that he was diligently keeping an eye on everything else as well. Especially him. When he dared to glance back.

 _Does he have a metal arm?_ Thor risked another glance, trying to see for himself. But the man was wearing a thick tactical jacket and gloves on both hands. And the look was met with a nearly hostile one in turn. He was making it clear without speaking it that he was watching Thor. Closely.

 _What kind of question is that?_ Loki asked.

Thor sighed a bit, finding his patience. Speaking within the boundaries of their minds wasn’t easy. For Loki, surely. It came to him effortlessly and was something he was adept at. It wasn’t as easy for Thor. A difficult enough task that required proximity and effort and the effort was wearing on his patience. But he wasn’t sure he should voice these questions out loud. Especially the ones he was about to ask. _Captain America recently faced a great battle with a metal armed man. He’s distraught over his disappearance._

Loki gave the Soldier a curious, if not slightly concerned glance and his calm, easy stride subtly but smoothly faltered. _When I undress him than we’ll know for certain. What else do you know of this man?_

_Little. He was a weapon of Hydra. The Avengers view him as a great threat._

_And Captain America?_

Thor gave the Soldier a cursory glance that the now unmasked human wearily and irritably returned. He was striking that was for certain. With eyes a vivid blue, only made all the brighter by the warpaint around his eyes. _Only wishes very greatly to find him._

Loki appeared to process this, falling silent to Thor’s great relief. He’d be happy when they spoke out loud again because not doing so was tiresome. And he was very much done with it.

Loki pushed open the door to their bed chambers, his eyes catching a servant who was apparently turning down the bedding for the night. A young maiden, they rarely liked to use the term ‘servants’. They were young males and females who served the higher nobility. But Asgardians weren’t nearly so degrading about it as humans could be, hardly in fact most were viewed with great respect and fondness. Thor favored her with a friendly smile, “Ophelia if you could run a bath.”

She turned curious, concerned eyes that were just slightly unnerved towards the Soldier, but bowed respectfully and immediately moved to comply.

“The girl ‘likes’ you.” Loki commented after she’d left the room.

“Loki...” Thor said, turning an affectionate but gentle smile in his direction.

“I really don’t understand why humans speak that way...” he trailed off, watching the Soldier closely. It made Thor turn his eyes to him as well and it was then that he saw it. A slight, nervous gesture, the human lifting a hand to his neck and then jerking it away. Actually, now that Thor looked closer, he seemed suddenly a lot more anxious than before. Or maybe it had been building and it was now only reaching a level that was noticeable. Either way, Loki immediately, fluidly stepped just a bit closer.

“Let me see.” he said, lowering the Soldier’s hands down.

“Is that...?” Thor asked, narrowing his eyes at the man’s neck.

 _I don’t know whether to be furious or relieved._ Loki said, glancing in his direction.

The Soldier had clear outlines of where a collar had once been. If the scrapes on his neck were any indication, it had clearly been torn away. Possibly in a fight. And Thor was suddenly growing more and more anxious himself that they did in fact have the man Captain America was desperately searching for. The man that had driven his ally and friend to leave his current lover and had in fact, driven himself right into Thor’s arms. Something he had told Loki of swiftly to avoid any... Repercussions. They’d discussed it at length. It had been healing, Thor had been helping a friend who’d desperately needed the intimacy. And no direct bonding had occurred. Even though now, Thor was skeptical. He admired Steve. Greatly. And perhaps there was a lot more to those feelings than he’d ever imagined.

But that’s not how relationships worked in Midgard. Not often. It was far more complicated.

“Soldier.” Loki murmured, trying to catch his eyes. The man was growing increasingly anxious, looking to having trouble breathing. And that’s about when, suddenly, and with far more speed than they’d ever thought him possibly, he suddenly make a break for the door. Thor knew Loki could have shut it with a simple gesture of magic but instead - he let him run.

“Brother-” Thor said, prepared to offer his help.

A collar and a leash materialized in Loki’s hands as he headed for the door with long, purposeful strides. “This won’t take but a moment.”

 

  
Bucky ran. He didn’t know why he was running but he felt like he was running for his sanity. Chasing it where it fled. Anything to escape, to escape the anxiety crushing down on him with an unbearable weight. Choking the air out of his lungs and making it impossible to breathe. To escape the feelings, the emotions, the terror. And there was this feeling of shame too, dogging him, like he was utterly and inescapably lost with no sense of guidance and direction. He felt like he was drowning and disappearing was the only thing the Soldier knew how to do. He didn’t even take into account that he was in a strange place, in a strange world, where nothing made much sense. In his wild desperation and madness, he even wanted to run right back to Hydra.

The thought gripped with a sudden amount of terror so great that it momentarily brought him up short. He felt ill, remarkably ill and he couldn’t breathe. He really couldn’t breathe.

“Soldier.”

He almost tripped over himself in the shock of that voice being suddenly so near. Loki didn’t even look out of breath. It was like he had materialized out of thin air.

“This isn’t-” Bucky choked out. “Possible. It’s not possible-”

“Do you have a name Soldier?”

Bucky’s head hurt just trying to think of it. Was he Bucky? “The man on the bridge.”

“What man on the bridge?” Loki’s voice was patient. Gentle. Cool. Just like his hands. But not uncaring.

“There was a man he...” his eyes became unfocused, the world pivoted and he saw laughter, heard it from a body he didn’t recognize. A smaller man with a face, a face so familiar it hurt. “Stevie?” he whispered, reaching out but his hands coming up with air and nothing solid or real. That man, fragile looking, small - with the bright blue eyes. Nothing but fight. The same face as the man on the bridge and the man on the plane and the man standing over him after all those experiments - those lips, those eyes, that face, that laughter -

“Soldier!”

Hands were gripping his arms and he realized with great choking, gasping sobs that he was crying, yelling - screaming. Anything to make it stop. He was on the ground and the world was still spinning. “Bucky. He called me Bucky.” was all he could manage to sob. “Who the hell is Bucky?!”

“All right, all right.” the voice soothed, catching him and bringing him close. He’d been holding him before, hadn’t he? He was brought against a lean, muscled body clad in leather and thick green cotton. The voice was suddenly much closer, soothing him with words he didn’t understand. Cool. Blissfully cool just like his hands. It was like water. It could convince him, probably anyone, of anything and he let it. He let it because he was in hell. He was in hell and all those beautiful, soothing words were like salvation.

Bucky wasn’t sure how long he cried. It felt like hours. He cried until he couldn’t lift a single muscle, his whole body felt like lead, and his throat was hoarse and raw. Loki said little after the first few moments. He’d held him close until the crying had eased, a large hand on the back of his head holding him to a shoulder and chest and the other arm securely wrapped around his back. He was encompassed and he limply held on. Until he couldn’t even do that anymore.

“What should I call you?” Loki murmured, stroking a hand over his head, through his hair. “Hm?”

Bucky didn’t have the slightest damned idea.

“Is Soldier all right? Or should I call you Bucky-?”

Finding a sudden amount of strength he didn’t even know where from, he reflexively gripped Loki hard in his panic. The sudden rush of emotions he couldn’t even process that the name evoked. It immediately made him think of the man on the bridge. His mission.

“Soldier it is.” Loki assured him, brushing his hair back from his face, stroking it aside. “That’s what I shall call you.”

That was good. That was about the only thing Bucky could cope with.

Suddenly, he caught sight of something that made his heart jump into his throat. Out of his body if it probably could. In Loki’s hands was a leash and a collar. But the feelings weren’t bad, hardly, it was with a certain amount of desperation that he almost couldn’t breathe when he looked at them. Something that he desperately needed to feel some measure of sane again. Anything to make his mind stop rushing at the speed of light, feelings he didn’t understand, emotions that were suffocating him. It felt like his mind was tearing itself apart. He felt completely and absolutely lost.

A large hand cupped his chin and shakily, Bucky withdrew from Loki - letting the god tip his head up, trying not to shake as badly as his body seemed to want. He wasn’t scared, not really anymore. Especially not around Loki. He felt as though, somehow, he just understood whatever he was. There was something in him that the Soldier recognized even though he’d never be able to explain. And it was calming. He felt like he wasn’t going to be asked to be something he might not be. He wasn’t going to be judged. Not by this person.

Loki did more than tip his head up, smoothing a hand through his hair and murmuring soothing words, exposing his neck completely. It made the Solider inexplicably nervous but he obeyed, eager to please, to prove he could. Bucky swallowed hard when the god murmured that he was beautiful. It warmed him. It warmed something cold and adrift. Made him feel like he was still salvageable, somewhere, some piece. Even if it was just the outside. He felt like his insides had been ripped clean, assembled mechanistically, and reduced to things he didn’t recognize. Or remember.

And then he felt thick leather against his neck.

Some part of him immediately quieted. He felt his mind start to still, slow, and calm. As the leather brushed against his skin and settled at the hollow of his throat and jaw, long cool fingers started to fasten it at the back of his neck. The leather perceptively tightened but not too much, just snugly, enough to feel it. And it was heavy, he noticed that too, but the weight felt perfect. Grounding. It was something, while it was on, he could hardly ever forget. It didn’t hurt like -

Bucky cut off the thoughts sharply, even as a sickening feeling of bitter affection swept through the Soldier’s mind at Kaprov, Lukin. And the ill tempered bastard he’d rather castrate, Romavik. The Soldier’s leash hadn’t often passed hands. But he remembered each time it had, whom he’d been used by. Too clearly.

“Stay with me, Soldier.” Loki murmured. “Those demons of yours don’t own you anymore.”

Bucky’s eyes fell closed and he let out a slow, shaky breath. No, they didn’t.

The collar was large, thick, died a dark green and black. It felt luxurious, like the finest leather, plated in the front. And the leash was braided, long, probably heavier. His brain was beginning to not think anymore. As Loki adjusted the straps, adjusted the collar against his skin, checked it’s tightness - he barely registered anything complex. Hardly even an observation. He was seeking safety and peace in the way his brain had long since been conditioned to shut down to the barest of functioning when the collar was on. To total, and absolute obedience. Peaceful. It was peaceful. A rare, miraculous gift these days. What with the Soldier running wild, without a master, and Bucky with no clue as to who he was or what he was.

“Stand for me, Soldier. If you cannot, there’s no shame in it.”

He couldn’t. He desperately wanted to obey but he just couldn’t. The most he got was a foot on the floor, the other refused to move, and he lowered his head in what felt like shame and defeat. Even though Loki had taken away the shame for him. He felt... Broken. But patched together at the same time. So long as that collar was on and that leash was in the hands of a capable person, he felt glued temporarily together. Like he wouldn’t shatter now. So long as it was securely around his neck and the leash was securely in the hands of another.

Wordlessly, with no disappointment and definitely no shame, Loki moved forward and carefully eased Bucky into his arms with a gentle respect and a strength the felt endless.

 

The Soldier was practically limp in his arms. Catatonic he could even call it. The collar had made as much difference as he’d imagined it would. The second Loki had seen the marks from his last one, the scrapes and bruises from the abuse it had suffered before finally being ripped away, had both enraged him and provided an unexpected lifeline to this tormented and abused man. He should have known or suspected the moment he saw the muzzle. Either way... the discovery had violently angered him. Something he’d very carefully obscured from the Soldier. Even Thor.

He could feel the man’s bones. Even through the armor, the leather, the clothing, he could feel bones where he well and shouldn’t. And Loki was filled with an overwhelming sense of protectiveness, determination, and empathy. Compassion. Emotions, before his redemption mostly at Thor’s hands, that he’d long since denied himself. The person that he was allowing himself to be now, to help the Soldier, in small amounts did frighten him. Because within himself there was still something that was pleased with power. That lusted for it. That enjoyed it.

That side had used to sicken him. It had caused death, mayhem, and destruction. Fueled his feelings of isolation and twisted them to hatred. It still sickened him, all that he’d done and witnessed, all that he’d let himself become. An evil he would die before he returned too.

The leash in his hands had given him a cold chill, seeping down his spine. Because it had felt good. The leather in his palm, the complete subservience from the Soldier. It had scared him at first and it still did in ways. Loki felt like what he had done, out of compulsion, was almost too much. That he’d taken on far more than he should have. Opened a door he’d barred shut ages ago.

But... looking at the man in his arms, staring blankly at nothing at all as Loki carried him back to the bedroom chambers, he felt less afraid. Still wildly into a black depth he was scared to tread. But what the man needed, he could provide and he could provide well. And he understood what it was like to be lost, broken, confused. At the complete bottom of despair, at the end of what felt like your entire being. To be shattered and standing amgonst the pieces of yourself, hapless.

He wanted to care for the Soldier. Mend him. He had been overwhelmed with the need for it the very first moment he’d set eyes on him. And he felt like he was possibly the only one that could. Could care for him, mend him, or at least patch him together until the wounds began to close and scar over on their own. They’d leave permanent marks. Loki couldn’t change that. But at least, in the very least, he could do this.

And he felt, somewhere within him, that it was mending him too. Letting him see the good in parts of himself that he’d long since hated and feared.

“I think I loved him.”

Loki frowned just a bit, looking down at the Soldier in his arms, his eyes blankly staring at the walls as they passed as Loki carried him through the halls. And though his expression changed little, the tears that came to the Soldier’s eyes tugged painfully at Loki’s heart. So painfully in fact that he almost, unknowingly as to why, but emphatically shared the tears in his shock. It was the heartbreak in his voice, pulling at Loki’s. A pain he’d known, shared at one time. That was surely it.

Thor eyed the Soldier with quietly concerned eyes as Loki carried him through the doorway to their bedroom, Ophelia shutting the doors softly behind him after he’d crossed the threshold. Loki saw in his eyes that he cared, that he wanted to help, and wasn’t adverse to it. He had a feeling that even though he’d assumed the role of the Soldier’s master - temporarily he firmly told himself - that even he would need the occasional assistance.

“The bath is drawn.” Thor told him, his voice a bit quiet. Which was well and good for the Soldier.

Loki nodded, already having headed for the annex through a doorway, into the wash room with Thor close behind. The large stone tub was steaming but he was confident it was only that, steam, and it wouldn’t be too hot. The serving girl was used to his baths being hot enough to burn, just as Loki favored, while Thor preferred something far more normal. He knew Thor alone, supervising her, would have made the water was suitable for the human in his arms. They weren’t after all. Human. Although Loki wasn’t entirely sure the Soldier was either.

He sat the Soldier down, Thor immediately moving to cradle the man’s head in a hand, hold him upright. Which the Soldier couldn’t do without assistance. Loki meanwhile draped the leash over a knee and set to work undressing the rest of him. He’d had practice, assisting Thor after battles, injuries and far more other, pleasurable circumstances. Leather wasn’t a nuisance to him, not hardly.

Thor ran a large hand over the Soldier’s head, the man barely blinking, staring just past Loki’s shoulder at the wall - quietly but gently despondent. He seemed captivated by the fire in the metal torches that lit the room. It was nearing night, steadily, over Asgard and soon the fire would be the only illumination. But it was plenty of light to see, with a sinking sensation of the heaviest weights in the pit of his stomach, as the rest of the Soldier’s jacket and gloves were pulled free and a metal arm was relieved.

Thor closed his eyes with a low breath and Loki did the opposite, taking one quietly, willing it to be easy and not sharp like it might have been otherwise, sudden.

Loki, mouth parted in shock, gazed at the full length of it. Witnessed the brutality of human experimentation. The scars around the edges were brutal but nothing was so brutal as the glaring evidence of abuse it represented. Trauma. Pain. His entire arm was gone and replaced, crudely it looked like, though he didn’t doubt it was fully functional. On the upper bicep was a stamp of his former handlers, a single red star. And then he realized that the Soldier was more aware than they’d realized. Because his eyes were watery. They’d never looked away from the wall but he knew what they were looking at.

It wasn’t the first or even the second time the Soldier had nearly broken Loki’s heart. “No, no, no.” he soothed softly. And, compelled, he ran a hand down the length of it - the metal slightly cool under his hand, even to his own skin which was usually cool. His fingers brushed over the outline of muscle, they’d spared little detail, past an elbow and to a hand - watching as a tear strayed down the side of the Soldier’s face and he turned weary eyes to him. Loki held his gaze and lifted his hand and weakly, though he could feel the considerable strength within, the Soldier curled his fingers around his.

“Don’t even think it.” Loki told him quietly, intensely, blinking back his own tears. “Do you hear me? I see it in your eyes and I will not allow it. You are not a monster.”

Thor rested a hand warmly on the Soldier’s stomach, turning a gaze to Loki that Loki couldn’t bare to see or to return. The sympathy in his eyes, something for which he was grateful but what he could hardly stand at the moment, was felt. And that was enough.

A few more tears strayed down the Soldier’s face and Loki bit back on his own. He wasn’t sure he was succeeding but leaned forward, pressing his lips to the man’s forehead, smoothing his hair back with a hand. “You are beautiful.” he whispered against his skin. “That is what you are.”

The broken noise from the Soldier’s lips was almost too much to bare. Loki knew, if he’d had the strength, he might have had another breakdown as he’d had earlier in his arms. As it was, he simple didn’t have the energy and that was all right. Loki felt at a risk of one himself, something he’d hardly expected when he’d impulsively taken the Soldier home.

They bathed him, together. It was a slow and gentle process. And it was also a sharp learning experience about the Soldier. He was scarred, suspiciously in places, like it had been intentional. He had a brand on the inside of his thigh in a language Loki used magic to decipher as Russian, he’d done the same when the man had reverted to a language that hadn’t been English. A small obstacle really. Thor... his participation moved him. Whatever Loki was apart of, whatever rules he had broken, he had made himself a part of it as well - subsequently breaking the same rules. They would be at far more risk if they weren’t the rulers of Asgard, surely, but they were still rules. To break them could set a dangerous example for others to follow and Loki knew he was bound to the consequences. But he didn’t regret them.

“Remember when you were but a child.” Thor suddenly said, softly into the room out of respect for the man in their arms, who was mostly dozing now under their hands. “You brought home an injured raven. It was your first attempts at healing magic. But you succeeded.”

Loki nodded slightly, running his hands through the Soldier’s hair, the man’s head resting on his bare leg. They were all nude. The Soldier seemed to care absolutely little, there was certainly no embarrassment to be had. Which was a relief. Most humans would scarcely understand the healing potential of touch. It was hardly embarrassing, in fact quite the opposite. It had the potential to mend wounds, heal rifts between souls, and to soothe pain. All of which Loki was offering freely now, in abundance to his injured raven.

 _Do you remember what happened to the raven, Loki?_ Thor asked him, quietly, privately within their own minds.

 _Yes._ He replied softly. He’d had to let the raven go.

“Your point has been made, brother.” Loki told him softly, out loud.

He had to shift him, the Soldier, to finish washing his back and Thor wordlessly helped, shifting a bit of an apologetic look in his direction. But it was pained as well and Loki wondered at the depth of it. Why Thor was so distraught over the Soldier. Compelled, while the sting of knowing he would have to let this raven go too was still fresh, he prompted for answers.

Thor gave a short, agitated, sigh but kept his response silent. _Friend Rogers is distraught over his loss. He knew this man. And I believe he loved this man-_

Loki turned his eyes to his lover, sharply, stilling the reaction. It was mostly the shock, the confession of the Soldier in the hallways as he’d carried him to the bed chambers. Of love. Despair. Love lost apparently, torn from them even, from what he could sense of the depth.

Thor drew in a quiet breath. _They do not often love as we do. And I merely fear that you have already-_

 _I’m well aware._ Loki cut him off, trying to do so without being biting. He wasn’t sure he entirely succeeded.

It was common for Asgardians to bond in pairs, for life, a connection soul deep. But it was also possible in rare circumstances for them to bond in numbers greater than two. Three, even more rarely four. The largest pairing ever spoken of had been ten. Of which Loki could hardly fathom. He could be an insufferably jealous soul. Of that he’d freely admit. Thor however, while possessive of him surely, had a large, compassionate heart. That had an endless capacity to love. Loki... Loki wasn’t sure he did, especially after how much he’d been hurt. He couldn’t trust another, love another. Surely it was what made the stirrings of attraction to the Solder, far more than stirrings, painful. Because he might have been the one that he could have loved beyond Thor. And he would never know and he had no right to lay claim, because the man was broken. And surely loved and was loved by another.

_Loki..._

Loki shifted his eyes up to his lover and then back to the Soldier, finding a smile. “He’s asleep.”

Thor nodded, finding a smile himself. “We will allow him time to heal. We must mend his wings.”

“As much as that may be possible.” Loki agreed. And that thought troubled him.

Just how broken was the Soldier?

 

TBC


End file.
